


A Rose E'er Blooming

by justbecauseyoubelievesomething



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Secret Santa, F/M, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-27 18:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething
Summary: Emma Swan's walls are about as high as they come and she prefers it that way. With her son and her job to keep her busy, she already has everything she needs. But when an unexpected one-night stand leaves her with swirling emotions and a permanent reminder of her decision, she finds that her walls might be hurting more than helping. Can a brooding seaman overcome his own troubles in order to protect Emma's heart? Or will their Christmas celebration only lead them both farther away from the love they crave?





	1. December

“Come on, Belle, please. I just need a name.”

Emma kept her phone pressed against her ear as she swung her bug haphazardly around a corner, narrowly making it through a yellow light.

“Emma, I told you last time was the last time...”

Emma ground her teeth together. “This guy is an addict. He has a dealer and if I can find the dealer, I can find my skip. He's not going to go far without his next fix.”

Silence hung heavy over the line.

“I'll owe you a favor,” Emma whined. “Belle, I just...”

“You promise?”

“What?”

Belle huffed a sigh. “You promise you'll give me whatever favor I ask?”

“Yes!”

Another few beats of silence. “I'll get you a name and call you back.”

“Thank you, Belle.” Emma hung up as she pulled up to the curb in front of a bustling brick school building. It didn't take long for a bright-faced boy to break off from the group of middle-schoolers bustling around the front doors and come sprinting towards the car, shaggy brown hair tousled in the December wind.

Emma shook her head at him as he leaped into the front seat. “Henry, where are your coat and scarf?”

Henry slammed the door shut and grinned at her. “Sorry, mom. I must have forgot them.”

As always, his infectious smile spread to Emma and she found herself keeping her face forward to hide her own smile as she pulled back out into the street.

“Good day at school?”

“Yeah! We exchanged our presents today and I actually got a few really cool comic books!”

Emma glanced at her son out of the corner of her eye as he bounced his knees restlessly.

“Did your friend like her's? What's her name again? Violet?”

Henry's cheeks flamed red and he looked down at his lap sheepishly. “Yeah, she did.”

He idly traced his finger along the misty glass of the passenger window for a few seconds. “She gave me a kiss on the cheek to say thank you,” he said offhandedly.

Emma blinked. “A kiss on the cheek, huh?”

Henry twisted his fingers together in his lap, his blush spreading up to his ear tips. “Are you mad?”

Emma blinked again and chuckled, reaching over to tousle Henry's hair. “No, kid I'm not mad. But when I drop you off at Regina's maybe you should keep that part to yourself, yeah?”

A sly smile slowly spread across Henry's face. “Yeah, maybe that would be best.”

Emma's phone rang and she quickly lifted it to her ear again. “Hey, what'd you find?”

“I have your name.” Belle took a deep breath. “But first the favor.”

Emma wrinkled her brow at Belle's tone. “Okay, what is it?”

“I need you to go on a date with a friend.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. Christmas Eve.”

Emma coughed. “Belle, listen...”

“I know you don't have plans for Christmas. You told me Henry's going to be at Regina's and then his dad's. You're gonna catch this skip tonight and then you'll spend the entire holiday watching Criminal Minds reruns and drinking that disgusting blueberry vodka you've been hording.”

“I know you can't see me right now, but I'm giving you a death glare for insulting my blueberry vodka.”

“You promised me.”

Emma pulled up to a red light and leaned back in her seat with a sigh. “Fine. Who is it?”

“The dealer is Charles Leland. Usually operates out of a warehouse on the corner of 63rd and Oak.”

“Thanks, but I was asking who the date was with.”

“Killian Jones.”

Emma closed her eyes and groaned. “So much for a merry Christmas.”

 

 

Henry's old foster-mother, Regina Mills, was a cold and regal woman who intimidated anyone who dared cross her path. Emma also knew her one softness was the twelve-year-old boy who ran up the steps and greeted her with a hug.

“Take your shoes off before you run across the carpet,” Regina called after him as Henry bounded past her into the house.

Emma crossed her arms and watched him go fondly.

“He's going to be taller than both of us at this rate.”

Regina's soft smile stood out against the sharpness around the corners of her mouth. “Yes. Pretty soon, I think.”

Emma pushed herself away from the gatepost she was leaning on and frowned at the flurries of snow beginning to fall. “I better get going before this snow gets too bad.”

“Surely, you can come in for a cup of apple cider first, Miss Swan.”

Although the clipped tones were icily polite, Emma smiled at the invitation. It may have taken two years of tense back and forth between her and Regina after she finally managed to track Henry down through the system, but despite outward appearances they developed a friendship that worked because it focused on their son. Even with the circumstances around Henry's placement in the system as a baby, Regina graciously allowed Emma to share custody and slowly but surely she was warming to Henry's father, Neal, as well.

“Thanks Regina, but I need to stop at the station to finish some paperwork from my skip yesterday.”

Regina narrowed her gaze, but gave an understanding nod. “Drive safely.”

“I will.”

Emma turned and jogged to her car, careful not to slip on the pavement that was quickly growing icy.

“And have a merry Christmas,” Regina called before she shut the door.

Emma rolled her eyes a little as she slid into her bug and started heading back downtown towards the station. Unfortunately, between herself, Regina, and Neal, there was always going to be one of them left out on the holidays and a Christmas without Henry was anything but good. And then there was this date business...

Emma didn't know Killian Jones by anything but reputation. Due to a lot of her contacts working in and around the docks, she heard Jones's name tossed back and forth a lot. A harbormaster who was perpetually drunk and almost constantly picking a fight. The only thing he was good for was being a consistent snitch for the police, something that kept his own hide out of jail when minor infractions arose.

How Belle French, of all people, befriended him was beyond Emma's understanding. She could only hope that the drunkard package didn't come complete with a beer belly and rancid breath.

As Emma pushed through the front doors of the station, she was greeted with a chorus of “merry Christmas”s from several of the officers still finishing up reports at their desks.

Belle flashed her a cheery smile as she pushed a few folders across her desk to Emma. “Merry Christmas Eve, Em.”

Emma glared at her and snatched the files up. “I want it on record that I'm not happy with you.”

Belle shrugged, her smile only growing wider. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Emma growled.

“Uh-oh, she's going into bear mode. Better clear the area, Belle.”

Emma turned her glare on Graham as he sauntered closer with a knowing grin on his face. “Got any plans tonight, Emma?”

“I swear, Graham...”

“Christmas Eve is always so romantic. Especially with the snow coming down and the lights everywhere... ow!”

Emma tossed her blond curls over one shoulder as Graham backed away wincing after her sharp elbow to his arm. Belle stifled a laugh.

“Don't tease her, Humbert,” Graham's partner said softly, joining the little group. He held out a steaming cup of coffee for Emma and she gave him a grateful smile.

“It's all good fun, Al,” Graham said ruefully, rubbing at his arm. “It's not my fault she's pricklier than a cactus.”

“She doesn't get to spend Christmas with her son this year and you're not helping the situation.”

That seemed to subdue Graham a little as he ducked his head sheepishly.

Al tossed his head to one side, his smooth waves of black hair shifting across his forehead. “If you need someone to hang out with tomorrow, you can always call me, Em.”

“I know,” Emma said. She finished filling out the last few lines of paperwork and slid the files back over to Belle. She gulped down the last few swallows of her coffee and gave all three of her friends a weak smile. “I'll be fine though. I always am.”

Belle tilted her head. “Just give Killian a chance, Emma. He's really not that bad.”

“I'll believe it when I see him, Belle,” Emma snorted.

 

The address Belle gave her led her to a homey, family style diner. As Emma maneuvered into a parking spot, she couldn't help but be glad she'd opted for a casual date outfit, consisting of a red sweater and dark skinny jeans. Whatever Jones was hoping for, she wasn't about to give him a false impression.

Out of habit she stayed in her car for a few moments, simply observing the diner's traffic. Despite it being Christmas Eve, there was no lack of customers heading in and out. Each time the door swung open, a bell tinkled merrily above it. A sign hanging in one frosty window proclaimed the name “Granny's” in bold neon letters.

Emma let out a deep breath and slid out of the car. Best to get the worst over with. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a blind date that wasn't a set-up to catch a skip. She needed to shake her bail-bonds demeanor and relax a little.

The silver bell tinkled above her head as she stepped into the warm, yellow-lit interior of the diner. Immediately, a wave of good smells washed over her and she breathed it in gratefully.

“Be right with you, hun!” a lanky waitress called as she dashed past her balancing two trays on each arm. Emma blinked and took a step back as she tried to scan the room, looking for a sign of Killian Jones. She wasn't sure if the image in her head was correct, but she wasn't picking out anyone that looked particularly drunk or swarthy and she was beginning to think she was the first one to arrive when a dark-haired man sitting in a back corner booth caught her eye. He was tentatively holding up a hand as if to signal her, his blue eyes piercing her with an intense stare. Emma felt cut to the bone, but she swallowed her discomfort and pushed her way past laughing families gathered around tables and made her way to the shadowed booth.

The man was smiling by the time she slid into the booth across from him and she shot him a tentative smile in response. Contrary to her image of a greasy-haired, beer-bellied old man, the man in front of her was slender with broad shoulders. His dark hair was neatly combed and the scruff covering his cheeks and chin only served to bring out a roguish sparkle in his eyes.

“Killian Jones?”

“Ah, so you've heard of me,” he laughed smoothly, leaning back in his seat and raising his eyebrows.

Emma crossed her arms, trying not to let her hackles rise immediately. “Well, I'm assuming since you're here, you've heard of me as well.”

“Emma Swan,” Jones drawled and despite herself, the way her name sounded rolling off his tongue made goosebumps run up and down Emma's back. Damn, Belle hadn't warned her about the British accent.

“You're not exactly what I expected, love,” Jones said, lifting his glass towards her before taking a drink.

Emma eyed the glass of water as he set it back down. “Neither are you, I can tell you that.”

“Well now I'm intrigued. What sort of stories have preceded me?”

Emma coughed, trying not to laugh at his eager expression. “Nothing too flattering, buddy.”

Jones's forehead creased and he leaned forward as if he were about to say something when the tall waitress suddenly appeared at their side with a smack of gum and smile.

“Alright, folks. What can I get for you?”

Emma scanned her menu quickly before handing it over to the woman. “I'll take a cheeseburger with onion rings, please.”

She looked across at her date and found that he was very obviously eyeing the woman's slender body up and down, especially focusing his gaze on the pale stripe of her exposed midriff where her skimpy white shirt rode up slightly above her belly button. Just as the waitress finished jotting down Emma's order, Jones turned his gaze back across the table to Emma and winked at her knowingly.

Emma fought to keep her jaw clamped shut, grinding her teeth together hard. Worse than his infuriating behavior was the fact that for some reason she was personally bothered by it. The smug smile on his face as he ordered his food made her want to wipe it off with a good punch. Although the way her blood was still boiling at the sound of his voice she was tempted to think of a few other ways to blow that smugness away.

She didn't even realize that the waitress was gone until Jones leaned forward again. “You all right there, love? I think I lost you.”

Emma grimaced at his smirk.

“Are you always this much of an ass?”

“Are you always such a spitfire?” he asked lazily.

“Only when I'm dealing with alcoholic, petty criminals who sell out their own kind to make a living,” Emma spat before she could stop herself.

Jones's eyes darkened and despite herself, Emma felt a blush rise up the back of her neck.

“Is that what they say about me?”

Emma grabbed her glass of water and swirled the ice cubes gently. She resisted the sudden urge to slide under the table to escape the stony stare boring into her.

“Would you like to hear what they say about you, love?”

Something in the way his voice swooped lower made her shiver again as she looked back up at him. The storm swirling in his eyes threatened to swallow her.

“Emma Swan. The ruthless bounty hunter who always gets her man. She gives no mercy. Her soul has walls of stone. You can't break her heart because she simply doesn't have one. Does that sound about right?”

Emma's harsh inhale caught in her throat as Jones's dark eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together in a thin smile.

“Cheeseburger and onion rings and the fish dinner,” the waitress announced. Emma fought not to jump in surprise as her food was placed in front of her. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“No, we're good,” Emma answered quickly. The waitress flashed them another smile and hurried off.

Both Jones and Emma picked at their food slowly, Emma desperately trying to ignore the ragged feeling in her chest and the throb of her heartbeat in her ears. She reminded herself distantly that she needed to at least thank Belle for the diner recommendation. Even if it was all she ended up getting out of this horrific night, the burger and onion rings were the best she'd tasted in a long time.

“What did you get out of this?”

Emma swallowed thickly and wiped her greasy fingers on her napkin. “Excuse me?”

Jones gestured vaguely between them with his fork. “You're not fooling anyone, love. You're obviously here for some other reason than me. And you don't strike me as the type to simply do something out of the Christmas spirit. So what did you get out of this... arrangement?”

Emma closed her eyes and sighed. “Belle is a good friend of mine. I owed her a favor.”

“Ahh... I had a feeling she was playing the white knight again.” He gave a wry chuckle. “She just can't resist.”

Emma bristled a little. “She was just trying to be a good friend. To both of us.”

“Don't get me wrong, love. I admire her for her good heart. I just can't say I see the world through her rose tinted glasses.”

“I have a name,” Emma snapped before she stop herself. “I'm not your love.”

Jones blinked slowly at her. “Duly noted. My apologies, Swan.”

His quick acquiescence caught Emma off guard. She picked up another onion ring and twirled it idly between her finger tips. “So what did you get out of this?”

Jones leaned back in his seat and dragged the tines of his fork through the leftover gravy on his plate, making swirling patterns on the white ceramic.

“Just a chance to not be alone for the night.” He glanced up at her, raising one eyebrow. “Believe it or not, this still beats sitting alone with my telly tonight.”

“No family?”

His eyes flashed again before he looked down at his gravy once more. “No. No one.”

Before she could think of another question to ask, Jones looked up at her again, this time a wry smile crossing his lips. “What about you, Swan? Any family?”

Emma kept her face neutral, even as the image of Henry crossed her mind. “No. Just me.”

“Just you, huh?” Jones dropped his voice lower, flirty sultriness back in full swing. “Ever been in love?”

Emma met his stare. “No. I have never been in love.”

Jones shook his head with a chuckle. “Lying isn't your strong suit, love.”

“What are you talking about?” Emma growled. She glared at her empty plate, wishing she had more food to distract her.

Jones shrugged. “I'm just saying it needs a little work. You're something of an open book, Swan.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to reply when a scream cut through the crowded diner. Emma whipped her head around towards the entrance to see a woman struggling over her purse with a man probably a full foot taller than her. Before anyone could move to stop him, he wrenched the purse from the woman's grasp and barreled out the doors.

Emma was up and sprinting across the diner before she could think, instinctively grabbing her handcuffs from her purse as she jumped up. She pushed through the door and immediately spotted the culprit jogging quickly down the snowy street. She dashed after him, praying that she wouldn't slip in the freshly fallen snow.

The man glanced briefly over his shoulder and apparently spotted her because he doubled his speed, whipping around a corner. Emma skidded across ice and snow, her boots scrabbling for purchase as she rounded the corner as well. The narrow alley hadn't been plowed yet and she found herself struggling to match her bigger quarry's longer strides through the drifts. She cursed under her breath as her adrenaline spike began to wear off and she found herself slowing dramatically.

Just ahead, the dark outline of the man reached the end of the alley and made to turn right and keep running down the next street.

“Oy! Thief!” a familiar voice rang out from beyond the alley. The man hesitated at the yell, turning to his left to look for the source of the voice. The few extra seconds were all Emma needed as she threw herself forward to cover the last body length and tackle the man.

Despite his bigger size, the unexpected force drove the man straight forward. Emma felt all his breath leave him with a whoosh as she landed squarely on his back. The stolen purse went flying across the sidewalk.

Emma whipped her handcuffs swiftly around the man's wrists. With the man cuffed and lying prone on the sidewalk she got to her feet breathing hard, just as Killian Jones came jogging up beside her with the retrieved purse in one hand.

“That was bloody amazing,” he huffed, leaning heavily against the alley wall.

Emma leaned forward with her hands on her knees, trying not to let her own heavy pants show too much. “You distracted him?”

“Aye.” Jones held up the purse proudly. “I'm never one to ignore a lady in distress.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So now you've decided to be a gentleman.”

Jones's eyes darkened. “Maybe she wasn't the one I was trying to impress.” He stepped closer to Emma and she sucked in a breath as he leaned in, their noses almost touching. “And for the record, Swan, I'm always a gentleman.”

Emma blinked, dazed. She knew her mouth was open, but no words were coming out. A single wan streetlight illuminated the side of Jones's face, casting sharp shadows across his cheek and brow. His breath was warm on her cracked lips and she fought the urge to dart her tongue out and wet them.

Jones looked over her shoulder at the fallen thief and grinned. “I hate to tell you this, Emma, but we make quite the team.”

His eyes were on her lips, somehow her hands were itching to grab his face and pull him forward. She was still breathing heavily even though she'd caught her wind after the short sprint.

“Please,” she tried to scoff, but it came out as a faint whisper. “You couldn't handle it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it.”

Emma grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him forward. The kiss was searing, sending waves of heat and cold alike down her spine. She kissed him and then as he made to pull away, she kissed him again, turning her head to get the full feeling of his lips on her's. She was lost in a surge of anger, frustration, and pure desire bundled into one unexpected man in front of her. Then the tip of his tongue darted out for a few seconds and she realized that this was not ending here.

She pulled back from him sharply, hot and shaking. His eyes were blown wide and his hands were hovering in the air as if he wasn't quite sure where to put them.

He licked his lips lightly. “My place or yours?” he whispered.

“Yours,” she hissed.

She went through the motions of returning the purse, calling the cops, following Jones to his car, all in a blur. His apartment was nicer than she would have guessed, just another thing she'd estimated wrongly. He shoved her back against the dark wood paneling in the elegant elevator and smashed his lips against her's again. This time he was in control, his hands roaming across her body, starting a fire across every inch of her skin.

He fumbled with his keys as Emma all but threw him through the door. She didn't even wait for him to close it as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer for another kiss, letting her hands roam up his neck and tangle roughly in his hair.

He grunted into her mouth and pulled away panting. “This is...”

“A one time thing,” she whispered harshly before pulling him back down.

All she got was an answering growl from deep in his throat and the sound of the door as he kicked it shut behind them.

 

“You got laid, didn't you?”

Emma ignored Graham's slightly teasing tone and took her styrofoam cup of coffee from Al with a nod of appreciation.

“Come on, Em! You did, didn't you?!”

“She definitely did,” Al said with an assured nod. Emma immediately shot a death glare at him for his betrayal and he grinned and gave her a thumb's up.

Graham laughed. “So THE Killian Jones must not be all that bad, huh?”

Emma blew on her scorching coffee and shrugged. “He was kind of an ass, honestly.”

“But good enough for a one night stand?”

Emma raised an eyebrow at Graham. “You're one to throw judgment around, Humbert. I have some stories about you I could...”

“Okay, okay. Point taken,” Graham said, holding up both hands in surrender.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Al pressed, stirring some creamer into his own coffee.

Emma tried not to let her mind wander to the way Jones's arm had been wrapped around her when she woke. The way that they were cuddled together before she delicately extracted herself from his sheets. The way his smell clung to her coat and beanie even two days later.

“Em?”

Emma realized she'd been staring deeply at her coffee and she looked up at Graham and Al's concerned faces with a disarming smile. “Nah. Fun and done. You guys know how I usually am.”

Graham rolled his eyes, not unkindly. “Yeah, we know. You can't take a chance.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “You're right. It's better not to take the chance that I'm wrong about someone.” She looked back down at her coffee and tried unsuccessfully not to think of warm lips and stubble pressed against her chin and waves of dark hair sliding between her fingers. A one time thing. She smiled a little to herself. And a hell of a Christmas present.

 

 


	2. February

The test stared up at her like a snake ready to strike. A poisonous death sentence.

Emma groaned and gripped her hair, trying not to let her thoughts spin out of control. She delicately lifted the little white stick and lined it up next to the two others on her sink. Three pink plus signs in a row. That sounded like a lyric from some sort of children's song.

“Mom!” Henry was just outside the door. “I really need to use the bathroom!”

“Just a minute!” Emma yelled.

Right. She already had one kid and she needed to keep it together long enough to get him to school. If she could get the pounding in her temples to stop long enough to drive.

Emma swept up all three tests and shoved them in her sweatshirt pocket before taking a deep breath and opening the door to reveal her frantic son.

“Thank goodness,” he yelled as he shoved her out of the way and slammed the door.

Emma sighed and wandered into the kitchen, feeling a million miles away from her body. Her mug of coffee sat under the Keurig spout untouched. She wasn't sure if it had been the smell of Henry's scrambled eggs, the dark scent of coffee, or a combination of the two that had sent her running for the toilet for the fourth time in the past four days. She ran her hand absently over the smooth sticks in her pocket and then over her flat abdomen. Her stomach turned again and she bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to vomit straight into the kitchen sink.

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

Henry was at her side, hand hovering under her elbow as if he could somehow keep her from falling despite his small frame.

Emma managed to give him a thin smile. “I'm just still fighting this stomach flu. Go on and hop in the car, I'll be down in a minute.”

Henry raised his eyebrow at her skeptically.

“Henry, I'm serious. You can't be late for school,” Emma groaned. “Your mom would kill us both.”

That got a small smile out of him, but as he stepped away to pick up his backpack, he kept watching her.

Emma slowly struggled to slip her shoes on. Every movement threatened to overwhelm her with dizziness and the knot in her stomach only tightened as she reached for her keys. She choked and slapped her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to hold back her heaves.

“Mom!”

The world was spinning and Henry was the only thing keeping her somewhat upright as they moved down the hallway at a snail's pace. He got her back to the bathroom and finally she was at the toilet and able to release everything. Her stomach twisted violently trying to upchuck nonexistent food. She hacked over the toilet for a few minutes before she finally felt the spasm begin to subside. She spat in frustration, trying to clear her throat and mouth and then sat back on her heels with a groan.

“Henry, call Regina,” she said. “She's going to have to come pick you up.”

“Okay, mom,” Henry said shakily.

“Hey,” Emma caught his arm as he turned to leave. “I'm okay, I promise. I'm sorry I scared you.”

Henry nodded but his eyes still flashed with fear as he ran out to the kitchen to grab Emma's phone.

Emma leaned her head back against the cool wall and closed her eyes. This baby was making life difficult already.

This baby. She moved her hand up to her stomach again. It was real. She hadn't even thought about having another kid. Hunting down Henry after ten years of not knowing how to be a mom... that had been more than enough on her plate. But now...

And then there was the matter of Killian Jones. The only person she'd been with in the past year or so. The flirty, shadowy criminal informant who had slipped through her walls and let her feel something for the first time in a long while.

Now she was feeling something quite a bit different.

She leaned back over the toilet as another wave of dry heaves wracked her body. Emma Swan was well and truly in a mess.

 

“How far along?” Belle whispered.

Emma groaned and leaned her head down between her elbows as Graham rubbed her back.

“Six or seven weeks I think.”

Belle sat up a little straighter, blinking at her friend. “Killian?”

Emma groaned again and Graham frowned at Belle.

“Hey, Em it's going to be okay. We're all going to be here to help.”

“I don't know how to explain this to Henry,” Emma said faintly. After a few days of perpetual vomiting, she wouldn't be surprised if he figured it out on his own, but that would almost be worse. At least today she'd been able to make her way outside for a bit. The fresh air helped a little. Somehow she'd found herself at the station, desperate for some sense of normalcy.

Belle took a deep breath and nodded at Graham and Al. “We're going to help you, Emma. But I think you should decide if you want to tell Killian or not.”

Emma glared up at her friend. “I hardly think Jones is fit to be a good father. I know he's your friend Belle, but we didn't exactly hit it off.”

Graham bit his lip and Emma could tell he was holding back a joke. “You'll keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you, Graham,” she gritted.

“I'm not saying anything.”

Emma sighed and looked back at Belle. “I know he's been trying to convince you to let him talk to me.”

The way Belle bit her lip was all the telling Emma needed. She shook her head a few times. “I'm sorry, Belle. I just... after everything with Neal and Henry I just...”

“I know.” Belle grabbed Emma's hand and squeezed it warmly. “I won't say anything to Killian. But the rest of us... we're here. No matter what.”

 

The wind was even more stark at the harbor. Al wrapped his arms around himself and bounced lightly on his toes. Emma huddled deep in her thick red scarf as she chewed slowly on a ginger gummy, a nausea cure courtesy of Belle's research over the last week. Emma was beyond grateful for the solution, even if it only worked in unpredictable bursts. Right now the combination of her normal job adrenaline, the salt-tinged air, and the ginger seeping down her throat was enough to keep her grounded.

Al shuddered again. “I hate winter here. Makes me want to move back to Saudi.”

Emma gave him a sympathetic smile. “Still not used to it after all this time, huh?”

Al shook his head violently. “Never. I'd take sand and sun over this any day.” He grinned ruefully at her. “If it wasn't for the whole wanted fugitive thing over there.”

Emma scoffed. “Oh yeah, that little detail.” She gave him a friendly nudge with her shoulder and he broke out into a genuine smile.

“Do you really miss it?” Emma asked softly, staring back out at the grey waves.

Al closed his eyes and nodded. “I miss the people most of all. I think that's always what leaves the biggest hole. Not even my family but just having people who understood traditions and culture without me having to give an in-depth explanation for everything. You know?”

Emma tried to imagine having people around her who would truly understand her. She once thought she had that understanding with Neal, but that had come to nothing but betrayal in the end. Al, Graham, and Belle came close and now she had Henry and Regina was becoming a friend as well, but to have someone who just got her without even trying....

“I guess I don't really know,” she finally answered. “But it sounds nice.”

Al reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “You'll find your people someday too, Em. I know it.”

She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, but out of the corner of her gaze she noticed two people moving towards them from the docks.

“There, Al.”

Both of them tensed up a little, going into automatic work mode. This particular case of Graham's and Al's involved some sort of extremely expensive contraband being shipped in today. It had also ended up crossing with Emma's latest skip, whose apartment had been full of particularly incriminating papers pointing to this exact delivery. After the three consulted, they reluctantly decided to send Emma with Al when he went to check with one of his contacts on the shipment.

“Remember, Em,” Al whispered, “let me do the talking. At least at first.”

Emma huffed a breath of annoyance but nodded.

“Boston P.D!” Al called out cautiously holding up his badge.

The two figures hesitated and leaned closer to one another as if consulting briefly before walking the rest of the distance to Emma and Al.

“We've got your bloody information, mate! No need to be so tense!”

Emma's eyes widened in distress but before she could move the informants were there and she was looking into the eyes of a man she'd tried her best to place securely behind her.

“Jones?”

“Swan.” She caught the mirrored widening of his own eyes as he flicked his heavy hood off his head. He immediately rounded on Al.

“Why is there a civilian here?” he demanded. “I told the police that this needed to be high security!”

Emma felt the blood rush to her temples. “Excuse me. I'm standing right here, asshole.”

Jones glared at her. “This is a sensitive transfer of information. If you think I'm going to risk the lives of my men because some hot-headed lass wanted to tag along on this expedition, then you must be daft!”

“That's rich coming from a liar and a thief!” Emma snapped.

“At least among thieves there is honor!” Jones growled, curling his fist.

“Both of you back down,” Al said sharply, stepping between the pair. Emma hadn't even noticed how close they'd drawn together, the heat of her anger pulling her towards Jones automatically. Jones pressed his lips together in a tight line and stepped back slowly.

“Emma is here under police protection,” Al said. “Whatever information you have to share can be shared in front of her.”

Jones sighed. “Fine. As long as this won't endanger the safety of the contraband.”

“Don't worry, I'm not one of your crack-head workers, Jones,” Emma shot testily.

The man leered at her, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips for a brief second and Emma cursed herself for the feelings that awakened.

“This isn't about drugs, love,” Jones said. He turned to his companion who still hadn't pulled down their own insulated hood. “This shipment was something much more... valuable.”

Al and Emma exchanged confused looks as Jones's companion leaned close to the man.

“It's alright, love,” Jones said in a much gentler tone.

The other figure nodded slowly and then pulled down the hood revealing a young wide-eyed woman, black hair tied back neatly in a thick braid.

“My name is... Jasmine,” she stuttered, a hint of an accent spicing her words. “And... I'm the contraband.”

Emma's jaw dropped for a few seconds and she was sure Al's did as well.

“Sex trafficking?” Al finally spat out. He sounded as angry and confused as Emma felt.

“Aye.” To his credit, Jones sounded even angrier than Al and it took only one look at his face for Emma to see that he wasn't faking. “And this lass was specially sought out by the slimy bastard.”

This time the churning in Emma's stomach wasn't morning sickness. The young woman couldn't have been older than twenty-one or two. She was shivering now, snowflakes catching in her shiny hair, as her gaze darted fearfully up and down the street.

“Can you protect her?” Jones pressed, focusing his fiery blue gaze on Al.

Emma's friend nodded, still seemingly stunned by the unexpected information. He offered the young woman his arm. “Come on, let's get you back to the station,” he said softly. “You'll be safe there.”

“Thank you,” Jasmine whispered shakily. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears but she bravely fastened her hood back on and turned to exchange a few quiet words with Jones. Whatever she said made his face soften and a smile cross his lips for a fleeting moment.

“You should come back with us too, Jones,” Al said. “We need all the info we can get on this bastard.”

Jones's eyes flicked to Emma and then back to Al. “You know I never go in,” he said lightly.

Al sighed. “Even for something as big as this?”

Jones glanced at Emma again. “I might be... persuaded...”

Emma groaned. “Let us talk for a minute, Al?”

Her friend gave her a concerned look, but she brushed him aside and he reluctantly started guiding Jasmine back towards their police cruiser.

Emma crossed her arms and stared Jones down.

“Alright, what's it going to take for your full cooperation?” she asked. “Another date? A kiss?”

“Why, Swan? You wound me!” Jones sneered. “You think I would bargain for your feelings like that?”

Emma snarled. “Well, you definitely wanted something from me! So what is it?”

To her surprise, Jones had the decency to look away with something akin to shame in his eyes. “I just wanted to talk, Swan,” he said softly. “That's all.”

“I know your type, Jones,” Emma sighed. She dropped her arms wearily. “Just talking always turns into something more.”

“Then you really don't know me as well as I'd hoped,” Jones snapped. Then he sighed again, shoulders drooping slightly. “I promise, Emma, I would never press you for more than you've given me. But you are far more than a conquest in the night, love. If nothing else I had hoped we could start over. Be friends.”

For the second time in mere minutes, Emma felt her jaw drop slightly. Nothing about this man was expected and she hated it as much as she felt it warm her heart. And really it didn't matter what he wanted because as the slowly growing nausea in her belly reminded her, things were already far too complicated for this “just friends” nonsense. But there was something about the way he earnestly held out his hand and the way the corners of his eyes creased in worry that made her reach out and grasp his hand.

“Fine,” she found herself saying slowly. “I think we can try friends. Nothing complicated.”

His smile was brilliant. “Nothing complicated, love,” he repeated.

He let go of her hand and shoved his own into his pocket. “Now, shall we go join your officer friend? It's bloody cold out here!”

Emma chuckled a little even as she felt a lump form in her throat. “Did you set all this up just to talk to me?”

“No, on my honor, love,” Jones protested as they began walking. “I was truly surprised to see you here.”

Emma nodded once, recognizing the truth in his voice, but unsure of how to continue the conversation. A few seconds of awkward silence fell over the pair until Emma laughed uncertainly.

“So, what do you talk about with your friends, Jones?” she teased nervously.

Jones grinned at her. “For starters, you can call me Killian, love.”

“Killian.” The name rolled of her tongue easily, her stomach jumped in protest, and she hated herself a little more. This was definitely going to end badly.

 


End file.
